


Of Long Nights and Longer Days

by Drabbleshy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Criminals, Alternate Universe - Detectives, Crimes & Criminals, Detectives, Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, Fake Character Death, M/M, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Tension, Swearing, but mild, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-31 19:29:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10905945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drabbleshy/pseuds/Drabbleshy
Summary: Based on "Smut Prompt: Something involving a desk and handcuffs."Thanks, friend!Featuring (all characters are 18 or up):Detective Investigator Draco Malfoy,Wanted Criminal & Ex Harry PotterDrabbleshy on Tumblr





	Of Long Nights and Longer Days

“I want answers, Potter! Enough playing around.” Malfoy was already tired of this game, tired of this man (he told himself); it was half past three in the morning and, due to certain circumstances, was the only one in this specific part of the station. Which was perfect for Potter.  
“Aw, really?” Potter retorted, grinning. “I was just starting to have fun.” To which Draco replied with a scowl. One would not be surprised to hear him growl, by the looks of his face. He was pissed off. It was personal, no matter what Draco said. “Come on, Malfoy, you know you want to fuck me on this table.” Worst of all, Potter was right. Of course, he was, the two had discussed such things during their dates in the past, teasing each other for what is to come at the end of the night and again, the following morning. In fact, it’s what almost got them banned from the local cinema.  
“You’re going to prison, Potter. Don’t you want help, y-you -- you asshole!” to which Harry snorted, motioned to the pale man’s pants, a bulge forming, a clear, thick outrace of the familiar cock. Harry grinned up. Draco punched him, hard, and then froze. His lips quivered and he stared, not sure how to explain this now, to whoever saw him, if somebody saw the tape. Many thoughts, too many thoughts passed his mind within two seconds and they all fell away within half as many. He realised that he enjoyed it, he admitted, even slightly. He watched as Harry leant forward, using the thumb of one of his cuffed hands to wipe away the blood from the edge of his lips, sticking the digit into his mouth and suckling, pulling it out and down his chin. He licked his lips before snorting, as if “Something is funny?” Draco asked, baffled and not amused.  
“Strong and violent. As always,” he purred with pleasure, challenging his ex. After all, sneering at his face after the way they broke up gave Harry immense pleasure, and it wasn’t like Harry was worried. He had friends everywhere, he liked his lifestyle and he never gave in. He’d be out within two days tops, somebody else filling his shoes as the guilty ones. “You haven’t changed at all, my little dragon,” he teased with the old name, causing the silver-haired man to punch him again, this time only stopping when he reached the man. Harry looked more than pleased as his ex-boyfriend unbuttoned his pants and pulled out the pale-skinned cock that Harry had worshipped more than once before. An unspoken agreement was made long ago, so Draco simply motioned and Harry’s warm mouth was already wrapped around the pale cock. He let him have his fun, slowly working his way to taking half of it, the pale hand playing with the messy hair gently before pulling it towards himself, making the young criminal choke. The detective didn’t care though, simply keeping him there for as long as he liked before pulling his head off of his cock and back, leaning down to kiss the breathless, messy Harry who could only answer with a pleased, sloppy grin.  
“I’m going to fuck your brains out, Perfect Potter,” Draco promised him before straightening up again and pushing his cock down his throat again, letting out a moan of, along with a whispered “fuck.” His beautiful thighs so close to Harry, Draco grinned, pulling out soon again and turned on his heel, pulling the other to his feet, kicking away the chair. He pushed him down to the cold table, with a crack alerting both of them that something was broken now, probably Harry’s perfect cheekbones.Harry didn’t notice any injuries or simply cared not, the pleasure that was to come worth enduring every pain, an enjoyable side-effect nonetheless to both of the men. He noted the coldness of the table quickly; his shirt was raised to expose his torso and then pressed against the icy metal, the cuffs jiggling as he Harry raised his hands up, his head low and placed one bare leg on the table, spreading himself as much as he could in his position. Draco pulled down the other’s pants, his warm body pressed against his backside, Harry sighing and relaxing against the sudden heat. Draco’s hands travelling up and down his spine, between the other’s inner thighs, a place most pleasurable for the likes of Harry; they felt like they crackled with electricity, the hornyness seemingly originating and coming to this singular point, all at once, it made Harry shiver, a drowsy grin spreading across his face. Harry’s thighs were the favourites of many men and women and the man used that to his advantage, time and time again. Sometimes it lead to days and weeks of fun times in somebody’s bed, sometimes it lead to a single night and (accidental) payment far too many times for a normal time. At least Harry got his name around in more way that one.  
“Do it, Dragon! Do i--” Harry’s words were cut out by a moan, pleasure due to the pain caused, and the continuous, violent thrusts of Draco fucking Malfoy.  
Funnily enough, Draco Malfoy’s middle name was ‘fucking,’ at least when Potter introduced him to any of his “close friends.” Malfoy began catching on after the second pair of these very loved friends whom Harry knew little about but somehow they ended up in a bed, all awake until dawn’s first rays hit their skin through the sloppily covered window. They rested the whole day and went on with their lives the next day. It was worth it, Draco thought. He was never good at relationships. And now he know’s why.  
Harry’s breaths became deeper, knowing how much they both missed this, wondering how one person’s touch, no matter how violent, is so pleasurable, so much more amazing than anybody else’s. He felt shivers down his spine as he felt the detective’s hand wrap around his shaft and stroke, felt the other’s teeth against his soft neck and shoulders. Harry’s mind lingered, Malfoy’s force making him not only drool but making Harry remember; the current scene and memories clashed together. Cuts, bruises, traces of ropes around his wrists and lines left my metal cuffs around his ankles, as they were forced apart. Harry was Draco’s chew, fuck, love toy, and neither of them would give that up for all the gold in Gringotts.  
“Fuck, Potter... talk about not changing,” Draco spoke against his ear, still thrusting in and out of the tight hole, but slowing down, an arm keeping his human toy down. He grinned, remembering Harry’s helpless little moans, too, as he laid tied up against his bed, many-a-nights ago and not only once. It was never once with these two, they both knew. He would never think of daring to tell Potter how much he wanted him back, how much he desired his own body against the other’s, how great and unique their sex had been and even was now, at the current moment. He would never find that anywhere else, he thought to himself after long nights after men and women fell asleep in his dirtied bed.  
He felt Harry’s precum drip against his hands, determined to make them both cum at the same time. “D-Draco, wait,” he called out, almost whined, almost begged, but it did nothing, except making Draco bite into his shoulder. Harry wanted this moment to last longer. Forever, in fact. They would eventually be discovered, but he didn’t care much for such things. Not now, now under his weight.  
The floor was stained with a shared moan, one’s louder and aggressive than the other, Draco’s movements slowing down, fading away as both of them panted, trying to catch their breath. “Draco,” Harry spoke first but stopped as Draco approached him and kissed his wounds, then his blood-stained lips. He kissed his cheekbone and his nose next, gently, almost backing away as Harry wrinkled his face at the pain. But he stayed, and he kissed his chin. He kissed his neck. He cared. Draco cared for him, and now this was out in the open. This was a sign that Draco would always heal him, no matter how broken he gets, no matter whether he did it or not, Draco was there.  
“What do you say we get out of here?”

It’s strange to think of it, but the words, splattered in a bold crimson red, across the wall, were DRACO WAS HERE. The interrogation room somehow survived the fire, other rooms crumbling around it even know, a morning after. She crossed her arms, sighed and read the next line silently. AND SO WE WERE. “Don’t bother,” she said to her ginger partner, as he was about to call Draco’s number, “He’s long gone. You’ll find his body, dead, somewhere, in another fire. Mister,” she paused, scanning the papers that she had just put on the table seconds ago. “Potter’s remains will be found, too.”  
Not five days later, she grinned at the morning newspaper. “Ron,” she called out and waited for the water to stop running in the upstairs bathroom. “You owe me twenty pounds!” she yelled enthusiastically before throwing the paper onto the kitchen table and leaning into her chair, her hands supporting her head and the giant curly mess on it. “Can’t fool me, Potter. You’ll be back. Both of you or my name isn’t Hermione Granger. The brightest D.A. of her age.”


End file.
